


hold you tight

by Imiaslavie



Series: i trust (in your arms on my body) [Remile AU] [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (Obviously), Alternate Universe - Human, Frottage, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, Nipple Play, Self-Indulgent, Sloppy Makeouts, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imiaslavie/pseuds/Imiaslavie
Summary: Emile quickly discovers the fastest way to turn Remy into a blabbering moaning mess.





	hold you tight

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys. This is basically 1000 words about how Remy really loves his pecs played with. And his nipples. And Emile low-key having spit (and other fluids) kink. Honestly, I pray that I will have time for the second part because I need at least twice as many words about Emile sucking on his nipples for at least half-an-hour. Also some banter. And fluff. BUT MOSTLY SMUT.
> 
> This is what made me write the first smut in two (almost exactly) years.
> 
> (I repeat: self-indulgent.)

Remy looks really good in his white T-shirt with black hems.

Emile isn't sure why exactly the sight of the modest cut and simple white fabric is so arousing to him, but it is. Without his black leather jacket Remy looks completely different. He looks... Delectable. His arms thick, the fabric of the T-shirt stretches tightly over his upper body.

Emile doesn't even pause to think before he comes to stand right behind Remy and wraps his arms around him, palms sitting just above his hips.

"Why, hello there," Remy drawls out, his own hands covering Emile's. "Somebody missed me".

"Yep." No point in pretending otherwise. Emile tickles his nose with the short hairs on his partner's nape. Inhales. "Which club were you in? You don't smell like smoke."

"Cafe, babe, not a club. Didn't feel like it today."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm." Remy lets his hands fall on the countertop in front of him, keeping his balance... and pushes his hips back, just a fraction. "Knew you would be home early today."

Emile chuckles at that and pushes back, slowly but surely, until Remy is stuck between him and the counter.

Emile leaves an open-mouthed kiss on the side of Remy's neck, his hands roaming over Remy's body: gliding and pressing and scratching through the fabric. He is rewarded with the way Remy's ass presses against his crotch, teasing him with barely noticeable movements.

They haven't done anything like this yet. There's nothing more between them than a number of long satisfying make-out sessions and some thigh-groping. Oh, and those exquisite soft little breaths Remy lets out when the first small waves of arousal hit him.

Just like now.

Emile's hand dips under Remy's T-Shirt and scratches the skin right above the line of pants, tracing over the stripe of short bristly hairs running down. Remy lets out a small satisfied sigh. What a marvel of a man.

They move in small waves against each other, the friction just enough to be _good_ but not enough to be _enough_. A sweet, sweet torture, a promise of a much grander pleasure. Emile loves having Remy warm and pliant against his body, loves feeling the movement of his rib-cage with each his breath, especially when his breathing shudders, making his body tremble.

Emile is just the right height to put his head in the crook of Remy's shoulder. Like that he can easily see the white-knuckled grip Remy has on the edge of the countertop, he can watch the rise and fall of his chest, his nipples perking through the fabric. The soft curvy lines of Remy's chest look extremely pleasing to Emile's eye. His palms glide up Remy's body and gently squeeze his pecs.

Remy _moans_. A soft, needy sound.

A new wave of heat rushes through Emile's body, making his cock twitch. It's the first time he heard Remy moan. Oh, sure, Emile loves his little breaths and whimpers and whines, but this... And all he did to hear it was...

"Oh, you liked that?" Emile says hotly against Remy's cheek and gives the pecs another squeeze, this time a little bit firmer. His answer is a choked out moan. And then Emile forcefully brushes his thumb right over the left nipple-

\- and Remy chokes out a breathless _Yes_ , his head falling back.

Emile wastes no time, his teeth gently scraping down the line of Remy's exposed throat, his hands mercilessly groping Remy's pecs: pushing into them, squeezing them together, doing firm circular motions.

And he makes sure to stroke both his nipples each time.

Remy lets out a moan after a moan, his hips bucking hectically, almost like he can't decide whether to press more closely against Emile or lean forward and get some friction against the counter. Emile mercifully decides for him, pushing his hips forward and grinding hard against Remy's ass, hard enough for Remy's cock to rub against the surface of the counter.

Emile can hear the beginnings of his name between the broken moans and wheezy breaths Remy lets out, short helpless _E_ or _Emi_.

It's new, and soft, and vulnerable, and Emile wants to _drink_ it.

In one sure swift motion Emile turns Remy around and lets their mouths smash together, starting a heated sloppy kiss. Now their cloth-covered cocks grind against each other, and neither the soft fabric of Emile's sweatpants nor the thin fabric of Remy's pants can stop the heat. And Emile's hands never stop playing with Remy's pecs.

Remy, who is always such a skillful kisser, can manage nothing more than a desperate slide of his tongue against Emile's. His body shudders again and again, he sobs into Emile's lips, his hips thrusting into Emile's with a broken rhythm.

Emile is all airy breaths and low moans. He rubs his spit-covered lips against Remy's chin, enjoying the slick motion of skin-on-skin. His cock aches, pulsing, and he meets each and every thrust of Remy's hips with his own.

And then he catches both Remy's nipples between the tips of his fingers and squeezes _hard_.

Remy cries out, his whole body locking up with the paralysing wave of pleasure shooting through him.

He breathes out a shaking _Emile_ right against the man's ear. It brings Emile over the edge too. He exhales sharply, shudders, coming into his pants. His hips buckle forward a couple time more, almost on their own accord, and Emile purrs at the feeling of sticky wetness and at how he still can feel the shape of Remy's now much softer cock through the pants.

They both try to catch their breath, Emile's hands still laying over Remy's chest and Remy's arms finding their way to lay around Emile's shoulders.

Emile smiles at the sensation of wet lips on his cheek. He turns his head and meets Remy's gaze, still unfocused a bit. Remy is flushed, disheveled, his lips and chin glistening with spit.

Emile wants to have him again. For hours.

They kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I, as the young people say, bust a nut while writing this.


End file.
